Home Again, Home Again
by Shauna Lee
Summary: Finished! Follows A Much-Needed Vacation, followed by Gathering Storm. What happens when Ian and Sara come back from Mexico and have to confront their lives again after all that has happened. Please R/R
1. Default Chapter

Title: Home Again, Home Again (Jiggedy-jig) Author: Shauna Lee Pairing: Ian and Sara, of course Rating: I'll play it safe and say PG for minor swearwords, but I may have to change it to NC-17 if Ian and Sara get out of hand. Again.  
  
Standard disclaimer applies: I don't own Sara, Ian, Jake, Irons or any other of the Witchblade characters. Top Cow owns them. I can only wish I was that creative. I can only lay claim to the incidental characters I made up to further the idea Witchblade has sparked in my head.  
  
Please review and let me know what you think. I am interested in honest and constructive criticism of my work, and if you like it, I'll post more.  
  
For those of you who have been posting such nice reviews, Thank you. It's very encouraging to me that you are liking my work. And for those of you who asked about a sequel to A Much-Needed Vacation, I am happy to oblige. I hope you enjoy this as much as my others.  
  
Thanks! 


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: This starts the morning after Sara and Ian return from Mexico (A Much- Needed Vacation) I hope you enjoy!  
  
As Sara woke the next morning to the alarm, she felt disoriented. Was it only yesterday she and Ian had returned from Mexico? She stretched and sighed, feeling almost depressed to wake up in her bed alone. She was surprised at how quickly she had gotten used to waking up next to Ian, or wrapped in his arms. She definitely missed his beautiful smile. She fingered the ruby and silver heart dangling on its chain around her neck and smiled softly.  
  
Half an hour later she was just putting her hair up in a ponytail when Jake knocked on her door. She had asked him to pick her up this morning because she had gotten Gabriel to keep her Buell while she was gone. She let him in and gave him a hug and a big smile. He seemed a little distracted for a minute, but looked her over appreciatively as she handed him a cup of coffee.  
  
"Damn, Pez," he said. "You look good! All tan."  
  
"Thanks, Jake," she replied. "I feel good. I guess I really needed that break."  
  
She left him drinking his coffee and grabbed her jacket and helmet, and a tissue-wrapped bundle. She handed him the bundle while she shrugged on her coat. He stared at it.  
  
"Open it, Jake," she laughed. "It's for you."  
  
"Oh," he said, grinning sheepishly. He tore off the tissue and unrolled the bundle inside to find a white tee shirt with a group of leaping dolphins surrounding a surfer, and the words "Puerto Vallarta" beneath. He gave her a big grin and a hug. "Thanks, Pez. I really like it."  
  
"You're welcome, Jake. Oh, hey, wait a sec." she said as she headed back into her bedroom and grabbed another bundle. She tucked it into her helmet and they headed out her door and down to his car.  
  
"So what's been going on in the past 10 days," Sara asked. Jake looked uncomfortable.  
  
"I've pretty much been doing paperwork," he said. She looked at him for a minute.  
  
"Come on, Jake," She said. "Something's up. Your poker face is lousy. What gives?"  
  
"I don't know how to tell you this, Sara," he admitted. "And I'm not supposed to be telling you at all, really. But I think you need to know." He handed her a badge wallet, and she flipped it open to reveal an FBI badge and ID.  
  
"What the hell is this, Jake," she asked, completely confused.  
  
"I'm undercover for the FBI, Sara. I'm here to bring down the White Bulls."  
  
"You know about that?" she was surprised. After seeing her father's video tape she hadn't said a thing to Jake about it.  
  
"Yeah. And I know that you have information on them. That's why I'm telling you. I may need your help at some point. And I don't want you to misinterpret what I'm doing. Dante sent you out of town so he'd have a free hand to recruit me. I'm in with White Bulls, Sara. So I can gather information, evidence. I wanted you to know you can still trust me, even if it seems at times I'm not on your side."  
  
"Uh, okay, give me a minute to digest this." Sara handed him back his badge and turned to stare out the window. "I can't get over it. FBI Agent Jake McCarty?"  
  
"I wanted to tell you sooner, but I had to gather more information."  
  
"So, what am I supposed to do," she asked.  
  
"If I tell you we need to back off of something, do it. Don't rile Dante. Trust me, he'll get his. Just go along with whatever he wants, don't argue, and keep your head down. I know it goes against the grain, but it's all for the purpose of gathering evidence. And I need to see anything you've got on them."  
  
"My dad left me some stuff. Maybe next time we go for lunch we should swing by my place and I'll show you."  
  
"Thanks, Pez."  
  
"Hey Jake, keep me in the loop, will ya?"  
  
"As much as I can," he said. "Now, about our current case load."  
  
  
  
Ian woke slowly, opening his eyes to the empty room, and sighed. He was in serious need of a good workout to wake him up, because Irons had kept him up almost all night grilling him for his much-doctored account of Sara's vacation. He had kept a journal, in great detail, of the account of the trip he wanted Irons to see, and had handed it over immediately upon arriving home. Irons had poured over every detail, asking pointed questions about this detail, that observation. He had then informed Ian his first duty would be to inform Sara that she was expected for dinner that evening so Irons could insure himself of her good health, since he was cut off from the Witchblade and couldn't tell for himself.  
  
As Ian made his way to the gym, he impulsively decided to take a swim first. After about twenty laps he felt awake enough for a good vigorous workout. He showered off the chlorine and dressed again, then went to stretch out and indulge in a long workout. He was doing sword exercises when he felt Irons approach. He finished the set of maneuvers then turned to face his master, waiting patiently with his head bowed.  
  
"Your trip seems to have lost you little of your edge, Ian," Irons observed. "It is good to see you did not neglect your own routine while watching over our fair Sara." He held out an envelope and Ian moved to take it. "Deliver this to Captain Dante while you are informing Sara of my dinner invitation."  
  
Irons turned and left. Ian stayed still a minute longer, staring down at the envelope in his hands, then he went to shower off and change into his habitual black clothes. He made his way quickly to the precinct and stopped by Dante's office to drop off Iron's envelope. The Captain wasn't in, so Ian left it conspicuously in the center of his desk. He then turned to Sara's office, but she wasn't in either. Pulling out his celphone, because he could feel she was near, he called her.  
  
"Pezzini," she answered, but her voice was warm. She knew it was him. There were voices in the background, and he identified one as Vicki Po. So, Sara was down in the morgue again. He heard a door open and shut, and guessed she had taken her conversation out into the hallway.  
  
"Hello, Sara," he said. "Irons sent me to invite you to dinner tonight."  
  
"Huh," she said, amused. "Don't you mean insist?"  
  
"Well, yes," he admitted. "Seven o' clock."  
  
"Casual or formal," she asked.  
  
"Whatever you are comfortable with," Ian said.  
  
"Casual it is."  
  
"I missed you this morning," he said softly, the yearning plain in his voice.  
  
"Me too," she replied, just as softly.  
  
"Be careful, Sara," he said.  
  
"I promise," she replied. The line clicked as Ian hung up.  
  
He stood for a few moments, struggling to regain his composure. He wanted nothing more than to rush down to the morgue and take her into his arms, but he took a deep breath and casually headed back out onto the street. There were other duties Irons had assigned him, many things that needed to be caught up from his absence. It would be a very busy few days. He just hoped Sara would remember all the details of the carefully constructed version of their vacation when Irons was grilling her tonight. 


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Hope you are enjoying reading this piece as much as I am enjoying writing it. I still have only a vague idea where it is going. Ah well, I'll figure it out as I go along, like last time. Please review, so I know if you are enjoying it.  
  
Sara hung up her phone and rejoined Vicki in the morgue. Vicki was holding up the present Sara had brought her back from Mexico for Jake to see. It was a wrap skirt done in a lovely combination of patterns of bright greens, blues, and purples, with fringe at the bottom. It would come to about calf- length on her. Since Sara had never seen Vicki in anything really colorful, she was hoping Vicki would like it enough to wear it.  
  
"It's beautiful, Sara," Vic said. "Thank you so much!"  
  
"You realize now you and I have to go out on the town one night so I get to see you in it," Sara said, laughing.  
  
"Oh, definitely," Vic agreed. "I can't wait." The look on Jake's face said he couldn't either.  
  
"Hey, we gotta get going," Sara told Vicki. "I stored my bike with a friend while I was gone and Jake is running me over there to pick it up."  
  
"Sure thing, Pez. Let me know about our night out." Vicki carefully folded the skirt away and returned to her microscope, humming under her breath. Jake and Sara returned to their office so Sara could grab her helmet, then proceeded to his car. They talked about the mound of paperwork on their desks until he dropped her off at Gabriel's door. She waved to Jake as he pulled away, then pushed open the door to Gabe's place, smiling at the music. Classic Yes blared from his speakers, a group Sara admired for it's vocal harmonies.  
  
"Hey, Gabe," she called over the din. He popped his head around the corner, then grinned really big when he saw her. Pulling the stereo remote out of his back pocket, he turned the music down to a tolerable level. He came over for a hug, and she pulled a small box out of her pocket and handed it to him. He opened it to reveal a beautifully detailed three-inch high sculpture of the Archangel Gabriel done in silver. The halo and trumpet were plated in gold, and the feathers on the wings were gilded on the edges as well.  
  
"Wow, Sara, this is too cool!" He hugged her again, then went to set it on his desk.  
  
"I'm glad you like it," she said, grinning at his enthusiasm. Ian had been sure Gabe would love it. He had been the one to pick it out. He even paid for half of it when she protested at the cost.  
  
"So, sit and tell me all about your vacation." Gabe moved to toss stuff off of his couch so Sara could sit and got her a cup of coffee.  
  
"It was paradise, Gabe. Warm, sunny, beautiful. I was right on the ocean." She neglected to mention Ian or the kidnapping as Gabe plied her with questions and more coffee. Finally, she stood up, needing to get back to work.  
  
"Thanks for watching my Buell," she said as she wheeled the bike out onto the street.  
  
"Hey, I know how much you love that bike," Gabe replied with a grin. "Take care, Sara."  
  
"You too," she replied, slipped on her helmet, and sped off down the street.  
  
Dante was in his office when Sara returned from her break, and he motioned her to join him in his office as she came down the hall. Her stomach tightened as she walked down the hall to his office, expecting to get chewed out for something. This was the first time she had seen him since she got back, and she had no idea what had been going on in the department in her absence or what kind of mood he might be in. Steeling herself for the worst, she plastered a neutral expression on her face as she stepped into his office.  
  
"Welcome back, Detective," Dante said, sitting behind his desk and toying with a piece of note paper. "I trust you had a good vacation."  
  
"Yes, Captain, I did." Remembering Jake's warning, she decided to be extra nice to her Captain. Maybe it would throw him off. Maybe he'd actually pronounce her name correctly. Maybe the moon was made of cheese. She gave him her brightest smile. "Thank you for making me go. I hadn't realized how badly I needed it." She managed to sound sincere without being gushy. He stared at her for a moment, unsure what to make of her change in attitude, then gave her a tight smile in return.  
  
"Well, don't mention it. Dismissed." She gave him another bright smile and left. He frowned down at the note paper in his hand. Irons was ordering him to back off his harassment of Pezzini. To continue with his grudge against her was to make himself her target, and she would only dig deeper and harder into the Bulls' affairs. He had decided he agreed, and had ordered all of his men to lay off Pezzini. Now that he had Jake to watch her and feed her hints of misinformation, he could protect his boys and send her searching in the other direction.  
  
"Hey Jake," Sara greeted as she walked back into their office. She put her helmet on its hook and sat down across from him. Grabbing a folder off of the diminishing pile of paperwork, she gave him a grin.  
  
"Hey, Sara," he replied, smiling, but something shadowed his eyes. "How was lunch with Gabriel?"  
  
"He wanted to know every single detail of my trip before he'd let me take the Buell." Sara grinned and Jake laughed. She leaned over her desk towards him and asked him quietly, "Is something up, Jake?"  
  
"Tell you later," he replied just as quietly. She nodded, and they dove back into the piles of paperwork that cluttered their desks.  
  
At six-thirty Sara headed out, having lost track of time while concentrating on her paperwork. She was glad she had already warned Ian she was coming casual because she didn't have time to go home and change. She wove her bike in and out of traffic over to the mansion on Faust Street, the gate opening for her as usual. Ian waited to escort her in as she pulled up near the front door. Dressed in a black suit that would fit a whole lot better if he wasn't slouching, he had schooled his expression to neutrality. He appeared reserved and distant, but she could feel that he was as glad to see her as she was to see him. Waiting patiently as she pulled off her helmet and hung it on the handlebars, he led her through the familiar hallways to a room with a table set for two, then took up his usual stance behind Irons' shoulder.  
  
Irons rose from his chair, the image of genteel grace, and extended a welcoming hand to her. She declined to take it, and he let his hand drop with a slight shrug. He studied her for a minute, noting her tan, her more relaxed and confident stance. His eyes narrowed when they passed over the Witchblade on her wrist. When he finally looked into her eyes she met his gaze steadily.  
  
"Thank you for coming, Sara," Irons said suavely. "I trust you had no difficulties on your first day back."  
  
"No, actually, I didn't," she replied. "But I was mostly just doing paperwork."  
  
"I imagine it does pile up," Irons replied with mock sympathy. "Would you join me for dinner?" He indicated the small table with a gesture. She shrugged.  
  
"Sure." She said, and sat in the chair Irons indicated. Immediately a butler appeared with wine, followed by another man with covered plates. The wine was poured, napkins placed across laps, the covers whisked off of plates with amazing efficiency, and the servants retreated. Only Ian remained, standing behind Irons, studying his shoes. Sara spared him a glance, then concentrated on her meal. She waited for Irons to begin eating, then tucked into her meal with gusto. The beef was delicious and tender, medium rare. The potatoes were spiced with a hint of garlic and a light gravy had been poured over them. The beans were fresh and crisp, not steamed to mush as was so often the case.  
  
"So, tell me about your vacation, Sara," Irons prompted, sipping his wine and regarding her carefully.  
  
"It was really nice," she replied. "Absolutely perfect, until I got kidnapped by those maniacs."  
  
"I am sorry about that," Irons said. "I was quite shocked when I heard of it."  
  
"Yeah, well, good thing Nottingham was around." She took a small sip of her wine. "I was quite surprised when he showed up, actually. Why did you send him?"  
  
"I was worried about you," Irons replied smoothly. "I was more concerned you would fall prey to the Traveler's Sickness with no one familiar to aid you. It is fortunate I followed my instincts, was it not?"  
  
"I'll let it slide this time," she said, pretending to be irritated. "But I can take care of myself."  
  
"Indeed you can, Sara. When you are conscious." He smirked. "I am curious as to why the Witchblade did not warn you about the attack."  
  
"You want to ask it?" She held out her wrist with the bracelet across the table. "It hasn't gotten back to me on that one yet." Irons favored her with a half-smile, amused.  
  
"Tell me, Sara," he asked, trying to sound casual. "Did anything unusual occur with the Witchblade while you were on vacation?"  
  
"Yeah," she replied, looking thoughtful. "It ran me through the emotional ringer, forcing me to deal with some issues that I had been running from. After it put me through hell with its visions I fell asleep. I was completely exhausted. When I woke up I felt.clear, calm," she said, trying to find the right word. "Healed."  
  
"Interesting," Irons said, steepling his fingers and losing himself in thought. Sara took the opportunity to glance quickly at Ian. He met her gaze and smiled fleetingly before bowing his head again. She ate in silence while Irons thought. When she finished her meal she rose, laying the napkin on the table. Irons looked up at her.  
  
"My compliments to your chef, Kenneth," she said, smiling a little. "The dinner was wonderful. It's been a long day, and I have to go. I'll see myself out." She turned and left. Irons sat gazing after her for a minute, then took another sip of his wine.  
  
"Our fair Sara was far less antagonistic this evening, don't you think, Ian?"  
  
"She seems much more centered," Ian replied.  
  
"Yes," Irons agreed. "But that alone would not account for why the Witchblade has cut me off from our lady."  
  
"You will find the answer," Ian said, trying to sound supportive and confident in his master's resourcefulness.  
  
"Indeed I will," Irons said, setting down his wine glass and rising to his feet. "But until that time I want you to watch Sara even more closely. I can no longer feel when she needs your protection, so you must be sure to be there when she does."  
  
"But my other duties, your safety, who will." Ian began to argue, but Irons cut him off.  
  
"She will need you far more than I, Ian," Irons said sternly. "I have others who will see to my needs, though never so well as you do. If I need you I will call. Otherwise, consider the protection of our fair Sara your first priority. You know how important she is to my continued well-being."  
  
"As you wish," Ian replied simply, inclining his head and leaving quickly. Irons never saw the slight smile that crossed his lips as he left the room. 


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Life happened, and for a while things were just not conducive to writing. I hope you enjoy this little bit. Thanks for your continued reviews.  
  
Ian showed up at Sara's apartment just as she was finishing a shower. He let himself in with his key, smiling as he slipped it back into his pocket. Helping himself to a soda from the fridge, he settled on the couch with a book to wait. As tempted as he was to sneak in to the bathroom to watch Sara drying off, he didn't think she needed to be startled out of her wits right now. He sent her a soft ~Hello, love~ instead.  
  
~Ian,~ she sent back. ~I thought I felt you near.~  
  
~I'm on your couch, ~ he replied, and she could feel his grin.  
  
~I'll be out in a minute,~ she told him. Finishing her shower quickly, she dried off and wrapped the towel around herself, and wrapped her hair up in another.  
  
"Ian," she said, coming over and sitting across his lap, wet towel and all. He wrapped his arms around her waits and breathed in the aroma of her skin and vanilla soap. "I didn't expect you so soon. I thought it was just wishful thinking that I felt you out here."  
  
"Irons is most distressed, love." Ian kissed her and shifted her off his lap to sit next to him before his pants got soaked. "He can't feel the Witchblade anymore and he is very alarmed. He knows there's something more to it, he just doesn't know what. He has put me on continuous surveillance until further notice."  
  
"I'll bet you had a hand in that," Sara said, running her fingertips through his hair.  
  
"I didn't need to persuade him this time," Ian said.  
  
"Like you did getting sent to Mexico with me?" She raised an eyebrow and he grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief.  
  
"Irons seems to have forgotten I have been extensively trained in tactics and observation, and I know my opponent well." He grinned. "It only takes an occasional nudge."  
  
"Well, at least for now we have time," Sara said. She rose, leaving her towel on the couch as she did, and pulled Ian up with her. His eyes darkened with desire as she led him into the bedroom and showed him just how much she had missed waking up in his arms.  
  
Sara woke to the alarm, stretched, sighed, and rolled over to turn it off. She had hoped Ian would be here, but he had warned her the night before he had to return to the estate to report to Irons and get clean clothes. Then the smell of freshly brewing coffee hit her nostrils and her head cleared enough to realize he was in her kitchen, his presence soothing and strong. A moment later he walked into the bedroom with a fresh cup of an aromatic and strong roast and Sara smiled up at him.  
  
"You are a wonderful man," Sara said fervently as she accepted the cup and took a big sip. Her eyebrows rose as she swallowed and he flashed her his beautiful smile, melting her insides.  
  
"I brought my favorite coffee beans with me," he confessed. "Hurry up and shower. Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes."  
  
"One of your wonderful omelets, I hope," Sara said as she bounded out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Ian grinned as he watched her go, wishing that it was Sara's day off already, or that she had more time before work so he could slip into the shower with her. He laughed at the image of Sara trying to explain to Dante that she was late to work because she was getting it on with Irons' pet assassin. Then he sobered, realizing Dante would run straight to Irons with that information.  
  
Ian was extremely glad of the reprieve he now had, the time to be with his beloved Sara. But Irons would find out sooner or later about the relationship, and Ian would be forced to break from his master completely. He had already made his choice, and he would never reconsider. Sara was his life, his heart, his destiny. He would never break his promises to her. Somehow he would find the strength to defy Irons openly when the time came. He had to.  
  
He busied himself with eggs, cheese, and green onions as Sara showered quickly, then dried and dressed. By the time she joined him he was almost cheerful again. Sara couldn't be fooled, though, and gave him a penetrating look as she sat down to another wonderful creation.  
  
"Ian, what's bothering you," Sara asked around a mouthful of absolutely wonderful omelet. He sighed and looked into her eyes, unwilling to lie to her.  
  
"I am troubled by thoughts of what the future holds," he admitted.  
  
"You mean Irons, don't you," she asked gently. He nodded.  
  
"I am not certain what he will do, only that it will be motivated by anger. He will feel I have betrayed him, and you have stolen something from him. Two things, actually."  
  
"You and the Witchblade," she said. He nodded again.  
  
"He will definitely strike out at me, and probably you as well," Ian speculated. "I am guessing he will put out a contract on my life, and a bounty for you to be brought to him. He still needs your blood."  
  
"How utterly Stoker," Sara replied, referring to the author of the Dracula novel. "We have some time to figure this out, though. Between the two of us we ought to be able to come up with a solution, perhaps even take the initiative."  
  
"Hm," Ian considered. "Perhaps if we were to present a solution to him as if it were a business proposal, listing all the reasons he should just accept that we are inseparable and he should accept it. But we'll have to concede a few things in return."  
  
"I can't think of many things that would be too much to concede if we can be together, Ian," Sara said. "What do you think he would demand, other than my blood, that is?"  
  
"It is likely he will continue to require my services," Ian replied. "Unless, of course, he believes he can no longer trust me."  
  
"He'll still be pissed," Sara said, and Ian nodded.  
  
"He will be very upset. Irons does not like to acknowledge anything is outside his control. That's why you frustrate him so much."  
  
"I'll bet," she replied, laughing. "Maybe we should present it as my idea, since Irons is used to me not doing what he wants."  
  
"That's actually a very good idea," Ian observed. "He would be less angry if he saw this as your decision and not my betrayal."  
  
"Well, we'll have to figure out the details later, love. I have to get to work." Sara finished the last bite of her breakfast and carried her plate into the kitchen and put it in the sink, Ian right beside her. They cleaned up the breakfast dishes quickly together, then exchanged a kiss. Sara grabbed her keys, jacket, and helmet and headed out the door. Ian shrugged into his jacket and followed, locking up behind him and walking with Sara to the Buell. They engaged in another quick kiss, then Sara roared off down the street on her bike, Ian heading to the precinct after her in his car at a less breakneck pace. 


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm having trouble getting the italics for thoughts between Sara and Ian to format properly when uploaded, so I tried using * to bracket the thought conversations, but all that did was put my words in bold, so I am settling for using ~, so when you see those~ that means Ian and Sara are thinking at each other. Messy, but I can't get it to work consistently any other way. Saving in html messed up my spacing and only half of the italics came through. As always thanks for reviewing. I always enjoy hearing I've made you happy.  
  
  
Sara managed to beat Jake in to the precinct for once. She hung up her coat and helmet and dove into the paperwork left over from the night before. When Jake showed up with a cheerful grin and two cups of coffee fifteen minutes later, pleading lateness due to traffic, Sara instantly forgave him. She accepted her coffee with a smile.  
  
"Thanks, Jake," she said.  
  
"That vacation did you good, Sara," Jake returned. "I've never seen you smile this early in the morning before."  
  
"I was wound pretty tight before, wasn't I," she replied with another grin.  
  
"Listen, Sara, about that stuff you wanted to show me," he said, his tone serious. "How about at lunch today?"  
  
"Um," Sara stalled for a moment to contact Ian, who was lurking discreetly outside the precinct. ~Ian?~  
  
~Yes, love,~ Ian replied promptly.  
  
~Do you have a problem with Jake coming over for lunch? He wants to see what I've got on the White Bulls.~  
  
~No problem. I'll be nearby if you need me.~  
  
~Thanks,~ Sara replied. When her eyes refocused on Jake he was looking at her strangely.  
  
"You okay, Sara," Jake asked. "You kinda zoned out there for a minute."  
  
"Sorry, Jake," she said. "I was trying to remember if I had anything else going on for lunch."  
  
"Do you?"  
  
"Nope," she said. "Today will be fine."  
  
"Cool."  
  
They turned back to their tedious paperwork. Another hour passed, then a summons came from Dante. Sara's stomach tightened. She really hated her new Captain, but she kept in mind what Jake said and tried to be pleasantly neutral. As she and Jake entered the Captain's office he was seated behind his desk. He stood and came around to the front of his desk, handing Sara a piece of paper with an address on it.  
  
"Word just came in of a massacre at this location. Preliminary evidence indicates a drug deal gone wrong. Go check it out."  
  
"Yes, sir," Sara said. She and Jake turned and left the office quickly, heading to the motor pool for a car. They pulled out of the parking lot and into the mid-morning traffic, making their way quickly to the site of the investigation. It was a warehouse near the docks, swarming with cops and ribboned with yellow tape. They passed several officers who waved or nodded to the two detectives before parking near the scene and locating Vicky.   
  
Moments after she got out of the car, Sara felt Ian's presence, and glanced up at the roof of the building in time to see the corner of a black jacket disappearing from view. She hid a grin with some difficulty and walked into the warehouse with Jake.  
  
The warehouse had boxes stacked around in rows, some tidy and some stacked as if in a hurry. An open area between two rows, roughly in the center of the warehouse, was the object of the police activity. There were several bodies on the floor, bullet casings scattered about, many weapons still in the stiff hands of their dead owners. Sara walked over to Vicky and nodded at the mess.  
  
"What do you think happened," Sara asked.  
  
"I'd say they had a disagreement," she replied, a small smile playing about her lips.  
  
"Hell of a disagreement," Sara observed as she pulled on her latex gloves and started to examine the scene. She recognized two of the corpses as major players in the drug scene, and figured the rest for their respective muscle. There were no signs of drugs or cash. As Sara combed the area one of the shell casings caught her eye, and she called Jake over from his search on the other side. He immediately saw what she was getting at and pulled a camera out of his coat pocket, snapping off three quick shots, then sliding the camera back into his pocket. Then he picked up the brass with the bull etched into the side of it for a closer look.  
  
"This is more than just a disagreement over territories by drug lords, isn't it," Sara asked Jake. He put the casing in an evidence bag and slipped it into his pocket with the camera.  
  
"Dante didn't mention anything about this to me," Jake said. "Be careful." He went back to what he had been looking at before, and Sara continued her search, finding three more casings with the bull tattoo and slipping them into her pocket, safely wrapped in an evidence bag. She'd give them to Jake later.  
  
As she continued around the edge of the scene, she heard a faint electronic beeping coming from behind some crates. She circled around behind them to find one of the crates had been opened recently and not completely resealed. The beeping was coming from there. Shining her flashlight inside she discovered, not a bomb, but a video camera. As quietly as she could, she opened the crate and checked the camera. It had a small LCD display screen, and in it she could clearly see the scene as the cops bustled about. The low battery light was on, and that's why the camera was beeping.  
  
Ian approached Sara from between a row of crates, out of the line of sight of the crime scene's investigators. She smiled warmly at him.  
  
"Would you like me to sneak that out of here," Ian asked, indicating the camera. Sara nodded.  
  
"It's probably got evidence of White Bulls involvement in this murder. Jake could use that. If not, we'll just book it into evidence when we get back from lunch."  
  
"It will be waiting for you when you get home for lunch, my Lady. By the way, there is Chinese takeout in the refrigerator for you to share with Detective McCarty." He picked up the camera and disappeared silently back into the depths of the warehouse. Sara looked after him with a bemused smile on her face, then returned to the investigation.  
  
"Hey," Jake said as he came up to her. "Are you done?"  
  
"Pretty much," she replied.  
  
"Great. How about lunch before we head back to the office?"  
  
"Sure Jake," Sara replied. "I've got some Chinese takeout at my place."  
  
"Sounds good. Let's go."  
  
They were quiet on the way to Sara's. As soon as they got into her apartment though, Jake turned to her with a warning.  
  
"I'm supposed to convince you to let the case drop," Jake said. "That's what the shell casings with the bulls on them mean."  
  
"I kinda figured some thing like that," Sara said. "What I don't understand is why Dante sent you to that scene without warning you first."   
  
"I don't know," Jake replied. "Probably a test."  
  
"Makes sense," she agreed. She handed him her evidence bag with the three shells she had found. "Chinese is in the fridge. Dish up, and I'll go get the stuff my dad left me."  
  
Jake was just finishing spooning some pork-fried rice onto their plates when Sara pushed the tape her father had made into her VCR. They sat on the couch, eating and watching James Pezzini listing dates, names, his suspicions. Then Sara handed Jake the bullet he had left her with the bull on it.  
  
"When I brought in Tommy Gallo, he told me when he killed my dad it was nothing personal." Sara's voice was hard, cold. "It was just business. A contract was put out on my dad, and I'm betting it was the Bulls who did it. More specifically, Bruno Dante."  
  
Ian felt Sara's distress from his vantage point on the roof of the building across the street, and sent wordless support and love. She took a deep breath and pushed her anger and sadness aside.  
  
"I found this at the scene," she said, pulling a latex glove on before picking up the video camera. "Someone put it in a crate. It probably captured the whole thing. Including any of the Bulls who may have been present."  
  
"How did you sneak it out of there," Jake asked. "I didn't see you carrying it."  
  
"I had a little help," she replied, pulling her father's tape out of the VCR and putting the new one in, setting it to rewind.  
  
"Help from who, Sara," Jake asked.  
  
"Nottingham," she replied. "He owed me a favor."  
  
"You trusted that freak?" Jake demanded. He was obviously upset.  
  
"Lay off of Nottingham, Jake. He's saved my life more times than I can count. And he did this to help us bring down the Bulls."  
  
"What, he doesn't like the competition?" Jake snapped sarcastically.  
  
"That's enough, Jake," Sara warned. "He's helping, okay? Just drop it."  
  
She started the tape. Carlo Gionetti and his crew were there. It must have been one of his boys that set up the camera. Probably anticipating a double-cross, or looking for blackmail material. After about ten minutes of waiting around a second group arrived, headed by Frank Castleman. They argued, each claiming they were there to meet with Bruno Dante, each claiming they had been offered an exclusive deal by the Bulls. Everyone had a gun out and pointed at the opponents. Then Dante showed up and told them he would support whichever group survived to control the East End's drug traffic. A shot came from behind the crates on Castleman's side, and then everyone was firing, including Dante. Dante was hit, went down. The firing continued for another minute, and the few who tried to run were shot in the back from someone hiding in the crates behind Castleman's group.  
  
When everyone was dead, Dante sat up, grinning as Orlinski and Burgess came out from behind the crates. Dante stripped off his shirt and peeled off his bullet-proof vest. Burgess and Orlinski gathered up the briefcases that the two drug lords had brought, popping them open to reveal bundles of cash inside, hundreds of thousands of dollars. Dante slapped Orlinski on the back with a huge grin, they closed the cases, and walked out.  
  
Nothing for twenty minutes or so, then the advance police team arrived. They sealed off the site and called in reinforcements. The coroners and photographers arrived soon after. Ten minutes after that Sara and Jake walked onto the scene. Sara stopped the tape, staring at it in disbelief. Jake had a big grin on his face.  
  
"This is it, Sara," he said excitedly. "This is the break in my case I have been waiting for. When I turn this tape into my superiors they can come and arrest all the members of the Bulls. If Dante doesn't get the chair, he'll be in prison for life."  
  
"That's great, Jake."  
  
"I'll still need your father's tape, Sara," he said. "We can make a copy of it on our way to the precinct. You aren't likely to get the original back from the FBI."  
  
"We should make a copy of the other tape too, just in case," Sara said. Jake nodded.  
  
"Good idea. You never know."  
  
"I know someone who can help us out. Not a professional, but someone I can trust won't run to Dante with this. I'll meet you tonight after work and give you the originals."  
  
"Okay. How about Club Maxis at nine?"  
  
"Sounds good. When we get back to the precinct I'll go. You may not want to walk in there with these tapes on you. Especially if Dante wants to grill you about the case."  
  
"True."  
  
They grabbed their jackets and headed back to the precinct. As soon as they parked Sara jumped on her bike and headed over to Gabriel's. He answered the door with a grin. As usual the music was way too loud.  
  
"Hey Gabriel," Sara said. "You got a few minutes?"  
  
"Anything for my Drummer Girl," he replied with a grin. They went in and he turned down the music.  
  
"Who do you know that can make high quality copies of these," she asked, showing him the tapes. "Someone who isn't gonna talk to the cops, or look at what he's copying."  
  
"Whoa, Sara," Gabe said, looking at the cassettes as if they might bite. "What's on these?"  
  
"Stuff that will get important people in big trouble," Sara told him. "You really don't want to know what's on these. But I need copies today, good ones, and no one can know about it. Do you know someone who can help?"  
  
"Sure, Sara. I can do it."  
  
"You have the equipment for this?"  
  
"Sly had a double deck, a high quality one. He used to copy rented movies all the time. I got it after he died."  
  
"He could have bought anything he wanted," Sara said. "Why did he pirate?"  
  
"Because he could." Gabriel grinned. "I can drop these off to you later today, if you want."  
  
"That would be great," Sara said. "But I'd rather you didn't bring them to the precinct. Do you ever go to Club Maxis?"  
  
"Occasionally," he replied.  
  
"Could you meet me there tonight, about eight-thirty?"  
  
"Sure. You can buy me a drink."  
  
"Deal," Sara said. "Thanks, Gabriel."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
  
When Sara got back to the precinct Jake was still in Dante's office. Orlinski was in there too. One of them saw Sara on her way in, because she had no sooner hung up her jacket than Jake was at the door telling her Dante wanted to see her. He gave her a significant look, and she shot him a reassuring grin.  
  
"You wanted to see me, Captain," Sara asked from the doorway of Dante's office.  
  
"Come in, Detective Petzini. Jake, close the door behind you." He looked at Sara for a long moment. She reined in her impatience and dislike and simply waited. "What are your conclusions from this morning's investigation, Detective," he asked her.  
  
"I think Castleman and Gionetti had a disagreement over territory that got out of hand. Everyone either got killed or ran. Two less drug lords to worry about." She shrugged. "Unless forensics turns up something to indicate anything different, I don't see that there's much we can do."  
  
"Your partner said something similar," Dante said. "I happen to agree. Consider the case closed and move on to something else."  
  
"Sure, Captain," Sara said. Jake nodded. They left when Dante dismissed them, heading back to their office. Jake sank into his chair with relief when the door had closed behind them. Sara sat with a slight smile and started back in on the paperwork that had gotten interrupted this morning.  
  
"You didn't think I'd accuse him then and there, did you?" Sara grinned at Jake.  
  
"No," he replied. "But I wasn't sure what you'd say. It was a test, by the way. He wanted to see if I could handle myself with you around, to keep suspicion off the Bulls. I think I passed."  
  
"Good. Let's get some more of this paperwork off our desks before we go home. I want to get out of here on time for once." Jake nodded and pulled another folder off the stack. 


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry I took so long getting this finished and up. My boyfriend got the stomach flu, a really nasty case, and I have been taking care of him. As before, if the italics don't come through, thoughts between Sara and Ian will have ~ bracketing them so you can tell them apart. Thanks for all the encouraging reviews! Please continue to let me know what you think.  
  
When Sara got home Ian already had dinner waiting. He was dressed in what Sara liked to call his "stalker outfit" already. They couldn't risk being seen together at the club, so Ian would meet her there and be seen watching her, in case Irons had any acquaintances there. They would confront Irons soon, but they wanted to pick the time and the circumstances.  
  
"How was your day, Sara," Ian asked as usual. Sara smiled at him as she sat down. Dinner was beef in a wonderful gravy, steamed red potatoes, salad, and a lovely blush wine. Ian was becoming more and more of a gourmet cook all the time.  
  
"Productive," she replied around a mouthful of beef. "Ian, this is delicious!" He blushed and ducked his head.  
  
"Thank you, Sara," he replied. "I am glad you approve."  
  
"You know I love your cooking. You're a natural."  
  
"Your day?"  
  
"Hm? Oh, yeah. The tape had all the evidence Jake needed to bring down Dante and the Bulls. Dante arranged that little firefight so he could walk out of there with hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash. The whole thing is on video. That's why we're going to Maxis tonight. Gabe is making me copies and he'll drop them off at 8:30, then Jake will pick them up at 9."  
  
"This will please Irons," Ian said. "He's become tired of the Captain's arrogance, and has been considering getting rid of him."  
  
"That's ironic," Sara laughed. "Irons becoming tired of someone's arrogance."  
  
"Indeed." Ian smiled.  
  
"You know, I think I have an idea how to broach the subject of you moving in with me to Irons."  
  
"Tell me," he said simply.  
  
"Well, we can arrange for someone you don't like to break into my apartment. You can save me, of course. Then I go to Irons and tell him that I want you to move in. You keep saving my life, you're always here anyway, and I don't want to be here alone with psychos breaking in."  
  
"Hm," he thought for a moment. "It might work. We'll have to discuss this in depth. But not now. Now you have to decide what you are going to wear tonight." He had a wicked gleam in his eye.  
  
"What do you have up your sleeve, Ian," Sara asked, one eyebrow arched.  
  
"I just thought it would be fun to torment your partner by wearing that slinky little red dress you have hidden in the back of your closet."  
  
"Ian!" Sara was trying to hold in her laughter and appear shocked. It wasn't working.  
  
"Besides," he said, his voice low and silky. "It would make watching you from across the room infinitely more pleasant."  
  
"Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse," she grinned.  
  
"You can't," he said. "If you did I'd give you puppy eyes all evening."  
  
"Heaven forbid!" she laughed. "Anything but that."  
  
"Anything," he asked archly, heat in his beautiful brown eyes.  
  
"Anything," she confirmed. "Even the slinky red dress."  
  
"I love you, my Lady."  
  
"I love you too, Ian," she said, reaching across the table to take his hand.  
  
Showered, changed, and made up, Sara headed to the club. She took a cab because it was too dangerous to ride the Buell without the protection of pants. Ian had already departed to get a good vantage spot, but not before he got to see Sara all dressed up. He had stared, his breath caught in his throat, at the vision before him until Sara had hit him in the arm and warned him not to kill everyone who asked her to dance. It amused her to see him regretting talking her into wearing the dress. Served him right to suffer jealousy as the result of his emotional blackmail. Puppy eyes, indeed!  
  
Heads turned as she walked into the club. It was only eight, so she grabbed a table near the center of the available seating and ordered a drink while waiting for Gabriel. Pretending not to notice Ian in the corner, she scanned the room. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then she spotted Allyson at the counter, chatting with the bartender, Max. When the waitress brought her drink, Sara pointed out Allyson.  
  
"See the lady at the bar, the one with the red-blond hair who only orders cokes?"  
  
"Yeah," the waitress replied.  
  
"I'm a friend of hers. My name's Sara. Could you let her know I'm over here if she wants some company?"  
  
"Sure." Putting actions to words, the waitress was soon next to Allyson, pointing back over at Sara. Allyson turned to look and Sara waved. A grin broke out on Allyson's face, and she picked up her coke and headed over to the table, dropping into a seat and eyeing Sara.  
  
"You look fantastic, Sara!" Allyson said. "The red really sets off your tan. I hear you enjoyed your vacation."  
  
"Ian told you?" Sara wondered when he had found the time.  
  
"He called as soon as he got back," Allyson admitted. "So, tell me all about it."  
  
"Well, it was absolutely beautiful." Sara began. They spent the time reviewing the vacation until Gabriel showed up, a shopping bag in his hand. Introductions were made as Gabe sat down on Sara's other side, placing the shopping bag discreetly by her feet. A quick glance showed Sara two brown- wrapped packages that were roughly the size of two video tapes stacked one atop the other. One was marked "original" in pencil. Sara leaned over and whispered a quick "thank you" in his ear, and bought his first drink as she had promised.  
  
~Young Gabriel slipped your package in quite nicely,~ Ian said from across the room.  
  
~I noticed. You been giving him lessons?~ Sara thought back.  
  
~No, but perhaps I should. He seems to have a talent for it,~ Ian observed. Sara's lips twitched and she fought to keep from laughing.  
  
"So, what do you do," Allyson was asking Gabriel.  
  
"I run my own business," Gabe replied proudly. "I own Talismaniac."  
  
"Hey, you hired my friend Mary to design your site didn't you? She did a great job with it."  
  
"Mary's your friend?" Gabe was surprised. "Small world."  
  
"I design web sites too."  
  
"Really? What have you done I might have seen," Gabe asked, and they were off in a discussion of this web site and that, leaving Sara bemused as she listened to them dissecting the contents of the internet.  
  
~They're boring you, aren't they,~ Ian asked.  
  
~How'd you guess?~ she thought back.  
  
~I can see your eyes glazing over from here.~ His mental tone held amusement.  
  
~Beast. You can not. I wish you could ask me to dance,~ Sara thought.  
  
~ I do too,~ he replied.  
  
After a bit the topic of discussion returned to something Sara could follow, and they passed the time in lively conversation until Jake arrived. He took the only empty seat between Allyson and Gabriel, and introductions again commenced.  
  
"Wow, Sara, you look incredible," Jake observed. He was amazed by her appearance. Used to her jeans and crop-tops, he had never seen her dressed up before, and the effect on him was nearly overwhelming.  
  
"Thanks, Jake," she replied.  
  
"Would you like to dance," he asked.  
  
"Sure," Sara answered. She rose to her feet and Jake's jaw nearly unhinged as he took in the short dress and sexy black strapped heels. Gabe covered a smirk, and Allyson grinned, as Jake followed Sara out onto the dance floor as if in a trance.  
  
~I'll kill him if he touches you,~ Ian thought as Sara and Jake began dancing.  
  
~No, you won't,~ Sara thought back.  
  
~Can I at least make him scream,~ Ian asked, sounding like a child trying to beg a cookie from mommy.  
  
~Absolutely not,~ Sara replied sternly.  
  
~You never let me have any fun!~ he thought back petulantly, but when she glanced at Ian over Jake's shoulder he was grinning.  
  
As the dance finished and they returned to their table, Jake found a brown- wrapped package on his seat. Sara glanced at Gabriel, who winked back. Jake casually slid it to the floor by his feet. Sara gathered up her shopping bag and her purse.  
  
"I have to go," she said. "I have work tomorrow."  
  
"C'mon, Sara, stay," Jake urged. "I have work too, and that's not stopping me."  
  
"Yeah, so you can bring the coffee tomorrow, partner."  
  
Sara caught a cab again outside the club, heading back to her apartment where Ian was already waiting. He took her into his arms and gave her a fierce hug as soon as her door closed, kissing her passionately. She kissed him back with equal fervor.  
  
"It was so hard to just watch you, Sara," Ian said when they came up for air.  
  
"I know what you mean, love," she replied. "I wanted so much to be dancing with you."  
  
"Next time you go out, you will be, and to hell with what Irons finds out," Ian growled.  
  
"Well, I got the tapes to Jake," Sara said. "That's what this was all about. And the originals are safe and sound here."  
  
"Actually, I would suggest you let me hide them somewhere for you, Sara. You never know what may happen."  
  
"True enough," Sara said. "Where will you keep them?"  
  
"I have a small place, a condo I paid cash for under another name that no one knows about. I'll put them in the safe there."  
  
"Great. Now that that's decided, I have plans for you tonight." Sara's gaze was smoldering.  
  
"Indeed, my lady," Ian replied, sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her into the bedroom. "I happen to have some plans of my own."  
  
When Sara finally curled up in Ian's strong arms, exhausted and happy, it was very late. 


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry for the long wait again. I don't do it on purpose. Life is just extra crazy right now, and to top it off I had a bit of writer's block. Thanks for being patient with me and my recalcitrant muse. As always, reviews are much appreciated. And thanks to those of you who consistently read and review. I really appreciate it.  
  
Sara awoke the next morning alone in bed, but she felt Ian's presence in her apartment, and she could hear him messing around in the kitchen, presumably with the new cooking gadgets he insisted on filling her counters and drawers with. She yawned, stretched, and wandered into the kitchen to give Ian a hug and pour some coffee. She wondered how she ever got herself up in the morning before Ian started staying over. He always had coffee brewed and a hot meal ready, or nearly ready. If it weren't for the fact that he always gave her plenty of exercise every night she'd be getting fat by now. On second thought, she probably wouldn't, being a workout fanatic. Perishable skills and all that. Maybe Ian would give her some lessons on the fighting techniques he used.  
  
Ian was just sliding Belgian Waffles onto plates and setting them on the table. There was real maple syrup, powdered sugar, real whipped cream, and sliced strawberries for toppings. Orange juice and milk were already poured and the table already set. Fresh carnations in a beautiful cut crystal vase adorned the center of the table. Sara was amazed every time she thought about it how easily a cold-blooded killer like Ian could be so warm, loving, and downright domestic. But then she was still amazed at how easily she had adapted to their relationship as well. She had never been good at sharing space before.  
  
"Everything looks wonderful, Ian," she said warmly as she sat down across from him.  
  
"Thank you, Sara." He was still enjoying the novelty of cooking, trying new recipes out on her every chance he got. The few times she hadn't liked them had nothing to do with Ian's skills as a cook and everything to do with not liking broccoli.  
  
Ian was showing great improvement in his small-talk skills, and they chatted happily about nothing in particular over breakfast. Sara caught a shower while Ian cleaned up, feeling a twinge of guilt that he seemed to be doing all the work. But they had talked about this before, and Ian insisted he liked doing the basic domestic kitchen chores. Like cooking, it was something he could do to make her happy, and it didn't involve killing or the Witchblade. He had promised to let her know when the novelty wore off, and they would discuss it further. Sara was really worried about taking him for granted, or Ian feeling like she was.  
  
Sara glanced down at the softly glowing red jewel on her wrist. The Witchblade had mostly left her alone, except for the dreams, which were much more pleasant now that she and Ian were together. In lifetime after lifetime he had been at her back, by her side, and the 'Blade seemed very happy to have it so again in this lifetime. While Sara was grateful to have had a break from the nightmares, she couldn't help wondering how long it would last.  
  
As she finished rinsing her hair Ian came in and stood watching, handing her a towel when she was ready. When she stepped out of the shower he wrapped another towel around her hair and rubbed vigorously. She indulged him and simply stood, a bemused smile on her face, watching him in the mirror as he began brushing the damp chestnut mass. He had a glow in his eyes, and seemed to be really enjoying himself. She found she enjoyed it too. When all the tangles were out he stepped back with a soft smile, letting her blow-dry it and sling it up into her usual ponytail.  
  
Fifteen minutes later Sara was dressed and grabbing her helmet, Ian holding the door for her. He already had his coat on, ready to assume his daily stalking duty, as she kissed him soundly on her way past into the hall. He locked the door and they headed out, Ian emerging from the shadows after Sara had peeled off into traffic on her Buell.  
  
Jake was already in the office, coffee waiting for her as she had told him last night. She grinned at him, picking up her cup. Good coffee, too.  
  
"Thanks Jake," Sara said, motioning her cup at him. "What's up this morning?"  
  
"Nothing, yet," he said. He passed her a file. "Just paperwork."  
  
"Great," she groaned, flipping it open. Paper-clipped inside was a short hand-written note: "Package sent, now we wait. Maybe a few days." Sara knew Jake meant the videos had been delivered to his superiors at the FBI. She folded the paper and slipped it in her back pocket. As she did, the Witchblade yanked her into a vision.  
  
She saw her apartment door being forced open, Dante and Orlinski sauntering in and pointing guns at her, demanding the tapes. Ian coming out of the bedroom in a fury, dodging bullets, as Sara attacked with the 'Blade. Then the vision faded.  
  
She came back to herself with Jake peering at her, concern on his face.  
  
"Sara, what's wrong?"  
  
"Huh? Oh," she stalled. "Give me a second to catch my bearings."  
  
~Ian, did you catch any of that?~  
  
~Yes, love. I am going to kill your Captain very slowly.~  
  
~We may be able to use this to our advantage. Let me think on this, I'm starting to get an idea.~  
  
"Hey, Jake, let's take a walk. I need some air, I think. Too much caffeine."  
  
"Sure, Sara," he agreed. He seemed to have figured out she wanted to tell him something. They grabbed their jackets and headed down to the precinct parking lot, then around the corner a bit. The area wasn't so busy that anyone would be near enough to overhear them, especially over the noise of the city. Sara could feel Ian watching from the other corner of the building, and sent him a wordless wave of love and reassurance.  
  
"Jake, can I trust you with my life?" Sara's question caught him off guard. He knew he was about to learn something very important. He looked her straight in the eyes as he answered.  
  
"Yes, Sara, you can."  
  
~Sara, what are you doing?~ Ian was worrying now.  
  
~Trust me, love. I'll tell him just enough to get his support.~  
  
"Jake, I get visions. Premonitions, sometimes, about the future. Mostly visions about the past."  
  
"What?" he demanded, incredulous, not sure if she was yanking his chain or not.  
  
"I'm serious, Jake." She looked him in the eyes now. "Haven't you ever wondered where my hunches come from, or why they seem to be out of left field but are still dead on? Or what's going on when I zone out? How I seem to know things I couldn't possibly know, or get out of situations I shouldn't, couldn't get out of? Haven't you wondered what it is that kept me from sleeping so I dragged in like the dead the next morning?"  
  
"Are you telling me you're psychic?" Jake demanded, having a hard time believing this.  
  
"I guess so," she admitted. She ignored the amusement coming from Ian. "Jake, real psychics are nothing like the phone psychics or what Hollywood portrays. I'm telling you I see things, and I'm asking you to believe me."  
  
"Okay, I'll take this one on faith," he agreed uneasily, thinking back to some of the weird stuff he had seen working with Sara. "It sure does explain a lot of things. So, what makes you tell me now?"  
  
"In the office, a few minutes ago, I had a vision. Dante and Orlinski breaking into my place and demanding to know where the copies of the tapes are. Someone told them about the originals you sent to your boss, and that there were copies. And that I had them, or maybe Dante figured that one out for himself."  
  
"That's impossible, Sara," Jake said, disbelief back in his eyes. "I didn't tell anyone I sent them, I just couriered them to my superiors this morning, with a report detailing the contents of the tapes. They won't even have them yet."  
  
"What I saw may not happen tonight, but it will happen, Jake," Sara said earnestly. "There may be someone in the FBI who is a member of the Bulls, or maybe your boss calls you and they have your line tapped. I don't know. Sometimes it takes days for me to figure out the visions. Sometimes I never do."  
  
"Why not," he asked, curious despite himself.  
  
"When I get a vision of the future, I can change the outcome. It's a warning. When I get a vision of the past, sometimes the pieces just never fall into place."  
  
"Can you control them," he asked.  
  
"No. They come when they want and tell me just enough to confuse the hell out of me."  
  
"That I'll buy," Jake said.  
  
"What, you wouldn't believe I can control it and see what I want?"  
  
"Nope. If you could you'd have won the lottery and wouldn't be working this job."  
  
"Damn straight," she replied.  
  
"So what are you going to do," Jake asked.  
  
"Not sure yet, but there has to be a reason I was warned. A way I can turn this around and not only survive it but use it to my advantage."  
  
"Maybe you should stay somewhere else for a few days, until Dante can be arrested," Jake suggested. "You can crash at my place." Sara stared at Jake for a moment, surprised at the offer, snapping out of it when she could hear Ian's growl in her mind.  
  
"Thanks, Jake, but if I have to face Dante, I'd rather it was somewhere I have the home court advantage. But you should maybe vanish from sight for a few days yourself. Dante will go after you as well if he knows you're the one who sent the tapes to the FBI, or if your cover is blown. Which makes your place even worse for me to hide at."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind," Jake said. "We'd better get back to the office and do some paperwork."  
  
When they got back to their office nothing seemed amiss. Sara was willing to bet Dante had not gotten word yet about the tapes. She pretended to do paperwork while consulting with Ian about their best move. They went over the details of the vision, and tried to come up with a concrete plan to turn the situation to their advantage. Sara thought of tape recording the whole episode, so when Dante ended up dead there would be no doubt it was self-defense. Ian agreed. He would also set up surveillance of the hallway, fire escape, and front entrance to the building. No sense in letting Dante sneak up on them. Ian would have all in place within a few hours, well before Sara would be heading home.  
  
The rest of the day was excruciatingly tense for Sara. Even Jake seemed worried. Near quitting time he looked up from his computer and frowned at her. He slipped her a note. It seemed the package was delivered, the courier had sent confirmation to Jake with a signature, but his superior had never gotten the tapes. The signature was from one Eileen Burgess, secretary in the New York FBI field office. It seemed Tommy Burgess had a wife who was in with the Bulls, and she had intercepted the tapes. Sara looked out the window to see Tommy walking into Dante's office, motioned to Jake, and they both grabbed their coats and beat a hasty retreat.  
  
"Now I really believe you," Jake said as they headed out. "I'm going to lay low in one of our safe houses until things settle down. Come with me, Sara. My superiors should be working on getting the warrant for Dante's arrest right now, and we have the copies of the tapes."  
  
"Thanks for the offer, Jake, but I'm not going to run," she replied. "This ends tonight, one way or another. The Bulls killed my dad, Joe, and who knows how many others. I can't turn my back on that."  
  
"You're sure?" She nodded and Jake sighed. "Alright. I'll follow you home and pick up the copies of the tapes."  
  
"I don't have them at home," she replied. "A friend is keeping them for me. If anything happens, he'll know what to do."  
  
"Gabriel?" Jake guessed. Sara shook her head.  
  
"Nope," she replied. "Too obvious. I'm not telling, and you'd never guess."  
  
"Okay, just call me when you can," Jake said. She nodded and took off on her bike, figuring she didn't have much time to get home and into position. Ian was already on his way. They hurriedly set everything up and settled in the bedroom to watch the monitors on Ian's laptop. In less than half an hour two cars screeched to a halt in front of Sara's building. Orlinski and Dante headed in the front entrance, and Burgess circled around to the fire escape.  
  
"I'll be right back, my love," Ian said calmly, and slipped out her window onto her fire escape, a grim look on his face. Sara was willing to bet Burgess was about to "slip" on the ladder and break his neck in the fall. The Witchblade warmed up, anticipating a fight. A few moments later Ian was back at her side, coldly professional now. When their surveillance showed Dante and Orlinski getting out of the elevator on Sara's floor, Ian slipped behind her front door and Sara switched on the audio recorder and settled in on her couch with a fresh clip in her gun.  
  
She heard keys in her lock and guessed Dante had gotten them from her landlord. She smiled grimly, rising to her feet, when they still couldn't get in because of her security bar. There weren't any keys for that. The men took two tries to kick in her door, slamming it back against the box Ian had put there to protect him from getting squished. Of course, neither man looked behind the door, intent on pointing their guns at Sara, who was pointing hers back.  
  
"What the hell are you doing, Dante?" Sara yelled. "You and Orlinski better put away your guns and get the hell out of my apartment."  
  
"Where are the tapes, Petzini?" Dante snarled.  
  
"What tapes," Sara asked, not having to pretend to be mad as hell.  
  
"The copies of the tapes you had Jake send to the FBI today. Noone saw them, by the way. We took care of that."  
  
"You mean the tape my father made with evidence against you and the rest of the White Bulls before you had him murdered; and the tape of the slaughter you, Orlinski, and Burgess instigated yesterday that killed over thirty people? Those tapes?"  
  
"Yeah, those tapes, you bitch," Dante snapped. "I know they're here. If you give them to me right now I'll kill you quick. If you don't I'll make you beg for death before I'm through with you."  
  
"The tapes aren't here, Bruno," Sara said condescendingly. "Did you think I was that stupid?"  
  
"To bad for you," Dante replied. "Now there's no reason to keep you alive any longer."  
  
As Dante fired the Witchblade hissed into life, deflecting the bullet. At the same time Ian slammed the still-open door back into Orlinski, knocking the older man down. With a deft move Ian shoved the older cop into the line of fire as Dante fired at Sara. Orlinski dropped like a sack of grain, a surprised look on his face and a bloom of red spreading across his chest. Dante swore rather creatively and fired off three more rapid shots, all deflected by the Witchblade, before Sara shot back, hitting him squarely in the chest. He flew backwards into the hall to lay in an undignified heap bleeding out his life into the cheap carpet. Sara looked at the blood pooling around Orlinski's body and sighed. She had long since given up hope of getting any of her damage deposit back.  
  
Something alerted her at the last second, and she turned as Dante managed one last shot before his arm dropped to his side, heal lolling and eyes rolling back as he died. Unable to deflect the bullet with the Witchblade in time, it ripped through the flesh just above her hip, a shallow but painful wound. She stumbled, gasping at the pain, just managing to catch her balance before falling. Ian felt her pain and a blazing anger rose up in his mind. Sara reassured him the wound was minor and told him to grab the laptop and get out of sight. She put as much pressure on it as she could manage with her hand and turned to deal with the situation.  
  
As neighbors started to congregate in the hall, Sara scared them all back into their apartments, flashing her badge and growling at everyone to stay inside. Ian slipped out the back and down the fire escape. Best he not be seen here. Someone had called the cops. Sara could hear sirens on the way. She pulled out her celphone and called Jake. He picked up on the first ring.  
  
"Hey Jake, get your FBI ass over to my place right now, if you want to preserve the crime scene."  
  
"It's over? You're okay?"  
  
"Yeah, but I can't say the same for Dante and Orlinski. NYPD are on their way, and there's bound to be some Bulls who show, which could mean big trouble, so hurry." She was careful to avoid mentioning Burgess. She would find it really hard to explain knowing about him without revealing more than she wanted to. It would be hard enough to explain how she had managed to not get killed as it was.  
  
"On my way." He hung up.  
  
As the first of the cops arrived Sara flashed her badge and started giving orders. Moments later a tall man approached her and flashed an FBI badge.  
  
"Are you Sara Pezzini," he asked.  
  
"Hold on," she replied, pulling out her cel and calling Jake again. "Hey, Jake. Do you know a guy named Kronin?"  
  
"Yeah, Sara, he's my boss. Definitely not a Bull. I'm glad he's there. Pass the phone to him."  
  
"Here," Sara shoved the phone at Kronin. "Jake wants to talk to you."  
  
Kronin walked off a few paces, talking rapidly, then listening. Finally satisfied, he hung up and handed Sara her phone back.  
  
"Agent McCarty vouches for you, Detective. Please tell me what happened."  
  
"Captain Dante and Detective Orlinski apparently got keys to my apartment from my landlord, then kicked through the security bar." He looked at her mangled door frame and noted the key sticking out of the doorknob, nodding. "They came in with their guns out, demanding copies of the video tapes Agent McCarty had sent in that went missing. I have an audio recording, let me play it for you."  
  
She went back into her apartment and retrieved a cassette tape and player, rewinding and playing the episode for Kronin. Jake finally arrived halfway through the playback. Kronin looked grim, and Jake a bit shaken. Sara looked tired.  
  
"Well, I suppose the rest of the questions, like how you managed to survive this mess, can wait until after you see a doctor." Kronin turned to Jake. "Get her to the hospital, and make sure she has one of ours on her door at all times."  
  
"Yes, sir," Jake said respectfully. He took Sara by her arm and led her down the hall, stopping to talk with another federal agent on the way to arrange for a guard at the hospital. Sara took the opportunity to contact Ian while Jake was distracted, letting him know where she was going and asking him to keep an eye on her apartment. She didn't want any Bulls trashing the place in retaliation. He agreed reluctantly, wanting badly to be by her side instead. After the scene was mopped up and her apartment was secure again he'd go to her. Ian had already called a carpenter and a locksmith to repair her door.  
  
Watching from the shadows of the fire escape, Ian made his call to Irons.  
  
"What is it, Ian," Irons asked a bit impatiently. Ian could hear a soft feminine giggle in the background. Apparently the master was entertaining tonight and did not appreciate being disturbed. His annoyance vanished as Ian made a hasty report.  
  
"Captain Dante attacked Sara tonight, Sir. I was forced to intervene, as she was outnumbered. I suspect the Witchblade warned her of this encounter because she was not surprised. The FBI has assumed control of the investigation, and there will be questions Sara will not be able to answer without betraying my involvement."  
  
"So, young McCarty has finally tipped his hand, has he?" Irons mused. "How is our Lady, Ian?"  
  
"She was grazed across the hip by one of Dante's bullets," Ian confessed. "The wound is not deep, very minor. She is at the hospital now, under FBI guard."  
  
"Go to her, Ian. Watch over her. The remaining Bulls may attempt to retaliate. I will come by later to visit our fair Sara. I am very disappointed, Ian. She should not have been wounded at all."  
  
"Yes, sir," Ian said to a dead line as Irons hung up on him. He waited a bit longer to be sure everyone was out of the apartment, then slipped inside to gather a few things Sara would want to have at the hospital. Surely they would keep her overnight for observation, even though her wound was minor. Bag in hand, he slipped outside and secured the window, descending the fire escape silently and slipping through the shadows to the hospital to watch over his beloved. 


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Final chapter, I think. At least until I think of something new to throw at them. I hope you enjoyed the ride. Please let me know. And thank you so much for all your reviews and feedback along the way. For this 3- story series I got over 125 reviews total, which is really great. You have all made me feel so welcome posting here. I was really nervous the first time about what people would say about my writing. I feel like I have family here!  
  
Sara lay back in the hospital bed, contemplating the ceiling. She was way too keyed up to sleep, even though the pain pills they had given her were trying to make her drowsy. After the extremely competent nurse had cleaned and stitched up her wounds, entry and exit, she had been given a couple of shots, a few pills, and put here to presumably sleep the rest of the night. Now she was slowly going nuts, her memory of the confrontation with Dante circling endlessly through her head. She wished Ian were here to distract her with his peculiar sense of humor.  
  
As if her thoughts had conjured him, she felt his presence approaching her room. He was stopped at the door by the FBI agent on guard duty there, and Sara smiled as the sparred verbally for a few moments. Finally the guard stuck his head in the door.  
  
"Detective, sorry to bother you, but there's a Mr. Nottingham out here, and he's very insistent that he see you."  
  
"I've been expecting him," Sara grinned. "Let him in."  
  
"Sure, detective," he replied, moving aside to let Ian in.  
  
"Oh, and if Kenneth Irons shows up, tell him that I've been expecting him and let him in too."  
  
"Uh, okay, whatever you say," the agent said, withdrawing and shutting the door behind Ian.  
  
"Irons has his secretary do that to me all the time," Sara replied to Ian's amused look. "Turnabout is fair play, after all."  
  
"Indeed it is, my love," Ian replied with a chuckle. He put the bag on the bed and sat down next to her. "I brought you a few things."  
  
"No wonder I love you, Ian," she said, pulling him into a tight hug. "Noone has ever taken such good care of me."  
  
"It is my life's purpose to serve and protect you, my Lady," he replied, his tone light but his eyes were dead serious. Sara gently placed her hands on his face, drew him to her, and kissed him long and deep, putting all her love for him into it. He was breathless when she finished, and a fire burned in his eyes.  
  
"I love you, Ian," she said. "Now what did you bring me." Her impish tone broke the seriousness of the moment. He grinned a she began pulling things out of the bag: change of underthings, loose sweats she could wear over her bandages with some comfort, tee shirt, hair brush, tooth brush and paste, the book she had been reading, and chocolate.  
  
"I hope I didn't forget anything," Ian said. She smiled at him.  
  
"I think you got the important stuff," she replied, unwrapping a chocolate and popping it into her mouth. "I appreciate all this, Ian. I wasn't looking forward to wearing those bloody pants again tomorrow."  
  
"You're welcome, my love."  
  
"You know, now that you're here, I think I can sleep," she said.  
  
"Then lay back, my love," Ian urged, pulling the covers up around her and tucking her in, then managing to stretch out next to her somehow on the narrow bed. He wrapped her in his strong embrace and she snuggled close, feeling safe and content. She drifted off to sleep with the comforting feel of his steady breath softly stirring her hair and the sound of his heartbeat in her ear.  
  
  
  
Ian woke to the sound of the voice he knew so well speaking to the guard outside the hospital room door. He hid a grin as the door opened to the guard saying, "She's been expecting you, Sir." Kenneth Irons walked in, stopping stock still, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he took in the scene. Ian was carefully disentangling himself from Sara's embrace, trying not to wake her. He got to his feet, head down, hands linked before him in his usual pose of subservience. Sara stirred behind him, troubled by the sudden cold where Ian had warmed her. She fought off the fuzzy-headedness the drugs had left her and sat up, wincing a little as she pulled the wounds in her side.  
  
"Just what do you think you are doing, young Nottingham," Irons demanded, his voice low and venomous.  
  
"Comforting the Lady Sara, sir," Ian replied.  
  
"You have overstepped yourself, Ian," Irons said, the words an obvious threat.  
  
"Now, just a minute here, Irons," Sara broke in. "What the hell are you so mad at Ian for?"  
  
"Forgive me, Sara," Irons said smoothly. "Ian should never have touched you, much less laid down next to you. I fear it is the extent of the loyalty I have programmed into him that made him forget himself. It will not happen again, I assure you."  
  
"It wasn't Ian's doing," Sara snarled. "It was mine."  
  
"Indeed," Irons said, obviously trying to process this information. He wasn't sure if she was lying because she felt sorry for Ian, of if she had truly overcome her hostility towards his pet assassin.  
  
"He's been around an awful lot lately, saved my life more times than I can count. Hell, I probably couldn't count them because I'm betting there's a few I don't even know about. I'm safer with him by my side than anywhere else on earth, and I want to feel safe."  
  
"What exactly are you saying, Sara," Irons asked.  
  
"I'm saying I've fallen in love with your assassin, and I want him with me."  
  
Irons just stared, taken completely aback by Sara's admission. Ian remained frozen in place, but Sara could feel his carefully-concealed panic. They had talked about this but they had never decided on a sure course of action, but Sara had chosen to seize the opportunity. Ian had to trust she knew what she was doing.  
  
"Well," Irons ventured after a minute. "What exactly do you mean by with you, Sara?"  
  
"I mean I want to try out a real relationship with Ian. I want to have him eat with me when I go out to dinner instead of lurking in the shadows. I want him to move into my apartment. He's always there anyway, always watching me. He can protect me just as well by my side."  
  
"Ian is not prepared for such a. um. social relationship, Sara. He has no idea what is involved. You have no idea what it is you are asking."  
  
"I bet Ian knows more than you think, Kenneth. He's a keen observer, and highly intelligent. Do you think I'm not up to the challenge of teaching him what he hasn't already figured out on his own? I assure you I am."  
  
"Why do you want this, Sara," Irons asked simply, watching her carefully.  
  
"Because people around me tend to die, and I'm lonely. I'm afraid of having a relationship and then going through that pain again, that loss. Ian is the only one who has a chance of outlasting me. He's trained to outlast me. And he's proven often enough he won't hurt me. Quite the opposite. He's what I want, what I've been looking for. I just had trouble admitting it to myself."  
  
Irons simply looked at her, considering her words. Her bald honesty surprised him. He felt jealousy that it was Ian whom she had turned to and not him, but he knew in his heart she would never have been attracted to him anyway. She was a warrior, it was natural she would want the companionship of another of her kind.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sara, but I need Ian. He fulfils a role no other could for me." Ian started, shocked by Irons' words, never having heard such an admission from his master, his father, before.  
  
"I don't expect him to quit working for you, Kenneth," Sara said reasonably. "But most of his work is protecting me anyway, so it wouldn't be that big of a change. When you need him to do something else for you, I just don't want to know what it is."  
  
"I need his loyalties to remain clear, Sara. A relationship with you, with anyone, could confuse him."  
  
"Ian has done everything you ever wanted, become what you wanted, just to please you. You raised him like he was your son. You should be proud of him. And you should never doubt his loyalties."  
  
"I am proud of him, Sara. Prouder than you will ever know. I just don't want to lose him."  
  
"If you don't loosen your hold a little, you'll lose him entirely, Kenneth," Sara told him earnestly. "Give him a chance to be happy. He needs it, deserves it. Don't you want your son to be happy?"  
  
"Of course I do, Sara. As you wish, then," Irons conceded gracefully. "If this is what Ian wants as well." Irons turned to Ian, and Ian raised his head to look into his father's eyes.  
  
"I want this chance, Father, truly I do. I promise I won't fail you."  
  
"Well, it's settled then, on one condition." Irons turned back to Sara. "I may ask something of you in the future, and you must promise me you will agree to cooperate."  
  
"Depends on what it is, Kenneth. I won't promise blindly."  
  
"It's actually a rather delicate subject." Irons temporized.  
  
"You're talking about wanting my blood, aren't you?" Sara was pleased to shock Irons.  
  
"How did you know about that," he demanded, shooting a suspicious look at Ian, who was staring at the floor again.  
  
"The Witchblade showed me," Sara said. "Just one of the many nightmares it has cursed me with. I'll agree to let you have all I can reasonably spare, at healthy intervals, if you give Ian a real chance at a relationship with me. No interference, no constantly sending him away on jobs someone else could handle. And give him a paycheck so he can take me out to dinner and buy me flowers, not to mention helping pay rent and utilities. And not some cheap excuse for pay either. What he's worth. He deserves it, and you can afford it. Go back on any of these and the deal is off."  
  
"Very well, Sara." Irons held out his hand, smiling. He was getting her promise, which was what he really wanted. He counted the price she asked to be relatively small, all things considered. "It seems we have a deal."  
  
"It seems we do," Sara agreed, shaking his hand. She was thinking that the price she would pay was relatively small compared to what she had won for her and Ian. Irons released her hand with a slight bow of respect.  
  
"If you two will excuse me, I have other business to attend to. Ian, come see me when you pick up your things."  
  
"Yes, sir," Ian replied.  
  
As soon as Irons was gone Ian dropped the subservient posture and turned to Sara, letting out a shaky breath. She held her arms out and he came into them wordlessly. They sat together for a long time, and when Ian finally raised his face to look into her eyes there were tears on his cheeks. She gently brushed them away and waited for him to tell her why.  
  
"I am very glad that is over with," Ian began. "I was not sure it would work." He paused, considering his next question carefully. "When you asked him if he was proud of me, if he wanted me to be happy, you asked for me and not to persuade him, didn't you?"  
  
"I wanted to be sure he had told you, at least once," Sara admitted. "I wasn't sure if you had ever heard it before from him, and you deserve to."  
  
"I. it meant so much to me to hear those things, Sara. I don't know if you can understand."  
  
"I probably can't, not really. But when he said them I know how it made you feel."  
  
"I am very glad it did not come down to a confrontation, a final choice," Ian said, shivering. "I would have chosen you, but it would have broken something in me that would never mend."  
  
"My love, I promise we will do everything we can to avoid that at all costs. I want you to be happy."  
  
"I have a feeling I will be very happy, my Lady," Ian said, smiling brilliantly at her. She pulled him back into her arms, kissing him passionately. It was a very long time before they came up for air. 


End file.
